Fragile Desperation
by Treanz-Alyce
Summary: Deceived, Lianne has lost control. The demise of Jonathan of Conte ushers in a chaotic series of events that will complete the shadow's legacy. -DISCONTINUED-
1. Prologue

**Fragile Desperation**

**By Treanz-Alyce**

**Rating**: PG13

**Summary**: He never did pay enough attention to his younger daughter. It cost him his life. The final moments of Jonathan of Conté, and the forbidden affection that caused it, compliments of a shadow's legacy.

**Warning**: This will contain death. It also contains distant-incest: technically, Lianne and Roger are cousins-once-removed, so it depends on your take _(I personally don't consider it to be, but hey?!)_

_**Author's Note: **Thanks to Anya, who betaed this for me glomps! Big hug to Milla Talyyn too, for inspiration for an offshoot! _

**...Fragile Desperation…**

**Prologue**

He controlled her.

She didn't realize the extent of his power until it was too late. No matter what she was asked, or what she was told, she denied it. After all, he was nothing more than a shadow – clearly not enough to hold any influence over her. A shadow of darkness, misunderstood, doomed to a lonely eternity. Chains bound him to an unhappy past, where he had been misguided and used. She felt for his plight, and understood what it was like to be raised up on show, yet truly ignored. It petrified her that she could potentially end up in the same situation, locked in a timeless gate, doomed to lurk the edges of the chaotic realms between the mortal and divine.

He had come to her in a dream, handsome, charming, and most importantly, untouchable.

_He had an alluring smile, one of the first things she noticed. It was weeks before she could see him clearly enough to make out his identity, but the smile had been there from the beginning._

He had spoken to her during the night.

'_Lianne, I know what you've heard about me, but you mustn't believe it. I was merely the scapegoat.' _

He had gained her trust while she slept.

'_You can trust me, you know. I would never betray you, my dear. Not like the others. For I know best what it's like to be betrayed by those you depend on – the pain, the emptiness, the helplessness.'_

He had manipulated her innocence.

'_They don't understand you, nor do they care to. I'm really the only one who can be cares. Which is why we mustn't let anyone else know about this.'_

He had filled her head with pretty ideals, warped to serve his own purpose.

'_We would live a happy existence. You could have a choice, a chance to choose freedom.'_

He pretended.

'_For the sake of our love, my darling – you know that I love you.'_

And because of this, he controlled her.

'_Lianne, I want you to kill him. You wouldn't dare disappoint me, now, would you? I thought not. For he is the one who stands in our way.'_

She now stood at the small table, measuring out the clear liquid with hands that trembled ever so slightly. Two drops would do it.

'_He imprisoned me here. I will never be free until he is gone. Don't you want more than dreams of me?'_

The drops dissolved into the wine. There was no hint that red liquid within the crystal goblet now contained a deadly poison that would kill a grown man in less a bell.

'_Isn't it time you thought about what was best for you, dearest? Be selfish for once. It gets you further in the long run.'_

She smiled. There was no happiness in it. Instead, it represented her grim determination. There was no going back.

'_For you, love,' she had promised, 'For you.'_

"Papa?" Gently, she prised open the door to his study. Jonathan looked up, startled by the interruption.

"Lianne – come in." Wearily, he beckoned her. She obeyed, calmly pressing the door shut. Her fingers flicked the lock, silently sealing the room.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	2. Chapter 1 : Playing Fate

**Fragile Desperation**

**By Treanz-Alyce**

**Rating:** PG13

**Summary:** He never did pay enough attention to his younger daughter. It cost him his life. The final moments of Jonathan of Conté, and the forbidden affection that caused it, compliments of a shadow's legacy.

_**Author's Note **: Much love to Rosie and Anya for betaing this . _

**...Fragile Desperation…**

**Chapter 1 – Playing Fate**

"_Papa?" Gently, she prised open the door to his study. Jonathan looked up, startled by the interruption. _

"_Lianne – come in," wearily, he beckoned her. She obeyed, calmly pressing the door shut. Her fingers flicked the lock, silently sealing the room._

Crossing the space, she set the wine goblet down and bent to kiss her father's cheek.

Jonathan was tired. His hair was dulled to charcoal, grey hairs amongst the black. His sapphire eyes were bloodshot, yet still framed by the long feminine lashes that now seemed so out of place. Wrinkles creased dry skin that appeared to sag over his cheekbones. Stress had thinned him and it showed in his gaunt face.

Ruling Tortall had come at a cost to Jonathan of Conté.

He glanced at the goblet she had brought. Seeing this, her laugh tinkled, cutting through the stagnant air. "I thought you might be thirsty," she explained. Jonathan nodded his thanks at his fourth child and quickly drained the goblet. Long devoid of any true emotion, Lianne stared at the wet ring the bottom of the glass had made on the oak desk.

Silence suffocated the room for several moments before Jonathan spoke. "Sir Zahir is a good man – he will treat you well, despite what you might think. I trust him to." He glanced out the window, reluctant to look at his daughter.

Lianne froze with anger. How _dare_ he bring this up now? He knew she intensely disliked her betrothed. She refused to show her rage though, instead masking it with distress. "Father, I would rather not discuss it. Not now." Not ever, she added silently.

The pleading in her voice made him look at her. Of all the children, she was least like either parent, he decided. She had Thayet's hazel eyes and her strong nose, but had otherwise failed to inherit her mother's classic beauty, or even his charm. What puzzled him the most, though, was her personality. Lianne was quiet and reserved, hiding in the corners of rooms and sides of hallways. She was disinterested in anything political or physical, preferring the solitude provided by embroidery and needlework. Lianne's birth position (as fourth child of Their Majesties, and the younger daughter), combined with her detached demeanour had meant "her extroverted siblings often eclipsed her. Even her plain clothes and lack of jewellery made her appear to be a lesser noble, rather than a royal.

"Lianne, your mother and I know you don't particularly like the idea of marrying Sir Zahir, but we aim to permanently tie the Southern Bazhir to the throne of Tortall. This marriage is the best way to achieve that," Jonathan sighed before continuing, "But very well, we won't speak of it today."

The tone of his voice indicated that the issue was not resolved and that he planned to pursue it on a later date. Lianne reflected calmly that he would never have that chance.

She stood suddenly. Curtsying to her father, she picked up the goblet. Hesitating, she bent over and kissed his cheek. Lianne then turned and hurried from the room, refusing to look back at her aging father.

Watching the princess rush from the room, Jonathan was hit with a chilling thought. Unsure, how, or why, he knew that he had been here before. Straining his mind for a moment, the King realised when he had last visited this moment.

"…_As if thousands of people were screaming inside my head, each wanting to be heard first. As if I were all of those people, only everything bad in our lives hurt more, because the feeling was multiplied. I lived all the lives of all the Voice; there have been four hundred and fifteen of us, Alanna. And I saw my own death..."  
_  
Jonathan sat in numb shock for a moment. He knew what would happen next; in less than half a bell, his body would swiftly shut itself down as the poison contaminated his blood. Reaching for his quill, Jonathan pulled a new sheet of parchment towards him and began to write.

_I have been poisoned, by one I trusted. I regret that I am unable to say everything I wish, but rather leave only those messages most important._

He wrote swiftly, recording the most significant of his last thoughts on paper. There were messages for his Queen, his Heir, his Prime Minister, his Champion, and his Spymaster. He never dwelt on his daughter's betrayal, knowing bigger things were at stake.

_They didn't know what they were doing. It's my fault, really. Just make sure you reach them in time, so that they don't harm themselves._

For the last time, he signed the letter as the King of Tortall. He was growing weak, shaking and sweating. His vision clouded over as he slumped back in his chair, twitching.

_Jonathan of Conté, King of Tortall._

The last thing his eyes focused on was a small portrait above his desk, one of many. It was of a woman in her middle years. Her chain mail was gold, but the finer details could not be made out in his state; her banner, what Jon knew to be a lioness rampant, was caught flying in the breeze. Her violet eyes stared back at him, determined even in paint. His blue eyes widened, locking on the image that would haunt him for eternity, as he made a last feeble gasp for air.


	3. Chapter 2: Fighting Fate

**Fragile Desperation**

**By Treanz-Alyce**

**Rating**: PG13

**Summary**: Deceived, Lianne has lost control. The demise of Jonathan of Conte ushers in a chaotic series of events that will complete a shadow's legacy.

**Warning**: This contains death. And mild incest. And now insanity. ;) (_What a happy little fic!!!)_

_**Author's Note**: Box of chocolates to Rosie, who is awesome, and a big hug to Ammie too!_

…**Chapter 2…**

…**Fighting Fate…**

There was a knock at the door. She did not rise to answer it, but rather left it to one of her ladies to take care of. Listening, she heard the rustle of fabric as the maid dipped into a curtsey, murmuring "Your Highness.". Lianne remained seated, her eyes fixed firmly on the open page of her book.

Prince Liam entered a moment later. His unsteady limp, the result of a riding accident, was far more noticeable when one paid attention to the quickening of his steps. She ignored him, pretending to be engrossed in her book.

"Lianne?" His voice, though thick with emotion, was nevertheless commanding.

Slowly, she turned to face him. "Liam." On the other hand, her tone was bored, annoyed at the disturbance.

He swallowed, suddenly awkward. "I don't know how to say this." Liam's blue eyes flickered skyward, as if asking for the strength to continue. "It's Father. Something is wrong – you must come with me now."

"Father?" she gasped. "How so?" Lianne inwardly marveled at the way her shock sounded so sincere.

"I- I don't really know. I've heard fragments. But you need to come right away. I think- I think, he's been…" Liam's voice trailed off, his eyes showing what threatened to be a faint brim of tears.

A tear slid down her own cheek. "Killed?" She sniffed. "I know." Her eyes overflowed.

He stiffened. "What?" Then he shook his head, attempting to clear it. "Anne, please just come with me."

She stood. As she did, she caught sight of her face in the looking glass and was delighted to notice the way tears slowly slipped down her porcelain skin. On the surface though, she pouted a bit more, looking the part of a distraught princess.

"_Very good, my dear, very good," he whispered_.

She wasn't the only one delighted with her deceit.

"I do not care for such idle chatter." Her voice was clear and cold, slicing through the heavy air.

"But, your Highness, we were only trying to distract you from the tragedy at hand," her lady-in-waiting protested.

"Nonsense." The princess's tone was overly aggressive, catching her mother's attention.

Thayet spoke in a low voice to her daughter, flashing her a look of warning. "Lianne, these ladies share and understand our mourning for his Majesty."

"'Tis grief," one courtier confirmed in a whisper, "for her poor father." Most of the room's occupants made the star-shaped Sign against Evil on their chests.

Her lips, now cracked and dry, split into a cruel smile. "Don't you see, you fools?" she asked harshly, glancing from one nameless face to another. She held up shaking hands for all to see. Yet she alone watched scarlet blood drip down her fingertips, pooling on the polished floor. At last, Lianne's gaze rested intently on Thayet. "There is blood on my hands, Mother." Her voice broke, shrilly, "I have blood on my hands. And never again will they be clean!"

There was silence until one brave lady stepped forward. "Highness, you must not be feeling well." She reached out to assist Lianne, who slapped her viciously. The woman staggered back as others cried out in alarm. Lianne shoved another courtier aside as she made to run to the door.

Suddenly, the world swirled in inky blackness.

Lianne fell, caught by Cythera of Naxen.

Lianne stirred. Squinting, she could make out a figure above her.

"_My darling." _

Dazed, she half-smiled, recognising the voice.

"_You have done well. Very well." _

Her smile widened, despite being disorientated.

"_The assassination of the King was carried out smoothly." _

She felt a hand stroke her face tenderly.

"_Framing Sir Zahir was a stroke of genius." _

A ghostly kiss brushed her forehead.

"_And Tortall grieves, a kingdom's crux lost."  
_  
Subconsciously, she reached for comfort in the warm body.

"_But there is still work to be done." _

"Tell me," she rasped, her throat dry.

"_You wish to act already?"  
_  
"Yes!" Her brittle voice was feverish.

"_Patience is a virtue, dear one." _

Lianne whimpered. She reached out to grasp at nothing with her bony hand.

"_You seem hungry." _

The voice was mocking but without effect - the irony of her many hungers escaped her.

"_I can now be freed. We may be together soon."_

A sharp intake of breath.

"_No doubt one as skilled as you could easily manage the process…"   
_  
"What," she croaked, "is it?"

"_This." _

Briefly, she saw an image; a labyrinth of magical symbols, curving, twisting, and dipping across a cold stone floor. As she reached to touch the picture with her Gift, she felt a searing pain flare up – she was burnt by it, branded. Her eyes snapped open.

Thayet gazed down upon her daughter, hazel eyes haunted with worry.

---


	4. Chapter 3: Losing Fate

**Fragile Desperation**

**By Treanz-Alyce**

**Rating**: PG13

**Summary: **Deceived, Lianne has lost control. The demise of Jonathan of Conte ushers in a chaotic series of events that will complete the shadow's legacy.

**Warning**: This fic contains death, insanity and incest. Is there anything else you would like to request?

**Author's Note: **Sorry this has been slow coming. I hope it has been worth the wait. Thanks to Rosie for her comments back in…January? Oops. According to my plans, I have two chapters planned until the end of this fic- Chapter 4 ('Ending Fate') and then the Epilogue.

* * *

…**Chapter 3…**

…**Losing Fate…**

The stones were cold. Death reverberated from all sides. Deep below the palace, in the chambers of the deceased, Lianne glided through a silent maze. Her feet barely touched the ground. A gentle breeze puffed long strands of wispy black hair from her pale face. No emotion played across her set features. Red mouth, lips now chapped and dry, whispered words lost long ago.

"_Nurse, Jasson's wooden soldiers have taken my doll captive. He won't give Rosyn back until I pay the ransom!"_

"_The Ambassador's wife looks like a hag, don't you feel pretty now?"_

"_Only if you kiss me again."_

Blue eyes stared, unblinking, at the endless stretch of stone corridor before her. By now, she lacked the ability to see the stark greyness around her. A separate entity led her to the unknown destination.

She felt ghostly lips at her ear. Soft puffs of breath tickled the lobe as he spoke.

"_Just a bit further, my dear; I am closer than ever."  
_

Her pace quickened. Shadows became elongated and disproportioned by the glow from the small torch she carried. Her silhouette was thrown back like debris along the stones passed over.

* * *

Curved, the blade tip was fatally sharp. Instead of the ornately engraved show knife she owned, Lianne had chosen a plain, sturdy dagger for her elaborate work. The paradox seemed appropriate. Briefly she admired the flash of silver in the yellowed light. 

The blade hovered above her finger. Lianne took a breath. Slowly, carefully, she dragged the silver point across a delicate fingertip. Since she was highly sensitive, the cut stung, yet she ignored any feeling. One in her position became quickly accustomed to pain. Scarlet drops spilled from the opening. A mute gasp escaped her lips. She still despised the sight of blood. Harshly, the thought was forced from her mind. Lianne was compelled to continue.

Picking up the blade again, she deepened the cut in her finger. A curve was then added to the wound, crossing through the already existing line. When Lianne was finished, a symbol she didn't recognise was carved into her fingertip. Blood flowed freely now, trickling down her finger. Discarding the blade to one side, she stood shakily. Lianne did not notice the flecks of blood on her flimsy white nightdress. Shuffling forward towards the centre of the great chamber, she stopped. Her breathing was shallow, concentrating on the image in her mind. She kneeled, whispering as she dragged her finger a short way across the stone floor. She ran it back the other way, crossing over. A dot to the left completed the central symbol.

Blood! Her mind screeched. Lianne was stunned momentarily. Was she hurt? How did that happen? Only part of her knew the answer.

_The dagger_.

She reached for the blade, but could not bring herself to touch it. Her vision swam. Lianne buckled, reaching out to steady herself. She wanted to stop. Struggling, her will was fleeting. There was a short struggle for dominance. One voice, young and clearly frightened, wanted to cease the madness. As always, it was overpowered by a greater influence. Intense and cunning, the second voice taunted Lianne. Instinctively, she reached for her conscience. It was just out of her ability, shrouded in darkness and contained by the unknown force. It was a part of her, yet somehow it wasn't.

_Finish what we've started._

Hunched over, she began the initial arc of the second symbol.

* * *

"_By blood, by birth, by name; bound in harmony"_

It was complete. She felt accomplished for once. The gate was now laid. She would have smiled in satisfaction, had her face not been frozen in mutinous fear. His melodious voice resonated though her awareness, clearer than it had ever been. It prompted her along.

"_Shrouded in darkness beyond reach"_

Crimson symbols covered the floor. The ring was strangely appealing. Not to her mind; she had already lost any grasp on that. Instead, it fascinated her soul. Lianne's very core felt drawn to it. Recognising her ignorant longing, the original centre mark peeled itself off the floor. The symbol solidified as it slowly rose.

"_Weary souls, long departed"_

Ever so carefully, the mark rotated. As it turned, other symbols began to follow its lead. Flaking from the stones, other marks rose to join the centre. Lianne stood, transfixed, as her blood joined the upward swirl. The symbols still resembled something of the gate, except they now twirled and shimmered with increasing speed.

"_I summon the magic passed_"

The last parts of the labyrinth-like design became airborne, thickening into multidimensional smears. Picking up speed, the turbulent plan began to rearrange itself. Symbols expanded and aligned themselves. The first mark darkened. It dropped to the floor, smooth and sinister. Lianne's hair and nightdress wavered, disturbed by the stale air that was being sucked by the current.

"_Dormant residue,_ _awaken_"

Lianne felt the chill of the catacombs for the first time. The atmosphere grew colder still, as the gate became tinged with colour. She could see sparks of a musty orange woven amongst the twirling characters. A rich green flickered as it passed her. Tearing her eyes from the spinning vortex, she realised that the colour did not originate from the gateway.

"_Weaving and binding, opened and restored"_

Around her were the tombs that held rulers of the past. They had once been sealed with large stone slabs. Now slowly dissipating, these blocks were being eaten away by an acidic blue magic. It was the rich blue she knew; the most common and distinctive manifestation of the Conté Gift. Cracks had already formed in the slabs and from them leaked the coloured magic. Growing amounts poured out to join the vivid weave.

"_The spilt blood contained_"

It went far beyond her comprehension. Blood and magic spun before her, thickening to accommodate its ever expanding core. It began to pulsate. Lianne took a tentative step backwards. Her lips continued to move without her consent, finishing the spell.

"_Your_ _golden_ _chalice_ _waits_."

A piercing light flared. The centre of the vortex exploded. Magic and blood gushed forth, leaving a frothing molten trail.

Lianne was thrown back against the unmarked stone wall. Her lifeblood had been spent.

* * *

**Replies for the prologue and chapters one and two:**

**Rosie**: I like your nitpicky moods, they're very productive :p Thanks for the corrections and suggestions throughout.  
**DarkDracon0**: Ahaha, no I didn't make Jonathan a paedophile (this time).  
**Lan**: NO! Not the horrors of a clichéd plot:hides:  
**Seadragon**:glomps:  
**AthenaArtemis**: Thanks for that, genealogy isn't my strong point. I just knew that there was an incestuous trend in there somewhere.  
**Dancing Amethyst**: Amethyst, you always manage to give me lovely thoughtful reviews full of both praise and constructive criticism - thank-you :) You're also picking up all my loose ends, but too early! All the things you brought up will be tied back together in the last chapter.  
**Fell4adeadguy**: Thank-you for your enduring reviewing! I appreciate your comments.  
**Marisa1**: I'm trying to write it elusively, so don't think that you're necessarily wrong when reading into things :wink:  
**Kirsty**: Thank-you very much :blushes:  
**Selena**: You love me? As you should!  
**Lea**: Argh, I'm really disappointed that FanFiction has robbed me of one of your reviews :( I'd still really appreciate the CC though.  
**Winna**: Yes, I think Lianne is pretty cool, mainly because she has not been explored in canon and is yet to morph into a fandom-Sue.

Thanks to everyone else who took the time to read and review! Gold Stars for all.

Big thanks also to Rosie, Puma, Lan and Amethyst who picked up my doubling up of "his Champion" in Chapter 2. _(It was intentional, I swear! I was seeing how many of you were on the ball)_


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